


Ask Anything of Me

by PaperPuffin



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Asexual Character, Cor Cuddles Him, Fluff and Angst, Look Regis Has Drama, M/M, no beta we die like Noct
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:01:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29419074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperPuffin/pseuds/PaperPuffin
Summary: Some dates are harder to handle than others.“Leonis,” Cor answered his phone curtly, tucking it between his cheek and his shoulder as he continued to sign off on requisition forms. He wanted to get through this stack and go the fuck home. The sun had set long ago, and this was the last thing he needed to do in this disaster of a week before the weekend.“You need to come get him,” Clarus said without preamble.“Clarus, it’s been a long fucking day, what are you on about?”“Cor,” Clarus said, sounding as if he was put upon by the whole world and Cor’s stupidity was the last straw. “Check the fucking date.”Cor flicked off the phone base as he reached for the little date-a-day calendar that Monica had given him. Everyday was a photo of a new, angry looking cat. She had said it reminded her of him. He ripped off the page from yesterday (a howling, snaggle-toothed orange tom) to reveal a soaking wet and very angry cat. Cor felt his stomach drop all the way to the red soles of his shoes.
Relationships: Cor Leonis/Regis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25
Collections: FFXV Rare Pairs Week 2021





	Ask Anything of Me

**Author's Note:**

> FFXV Rare Pairs Week Day 7: Anniversary  
> ... but not in that way.

“Leonis,” Cor answered his phone curtly, tucking it between his cheek and his shoulder as he continued to sign off on requisition forms. He wanted to get through this stack and go the fuck home. The sun had set long ago, and this was the last thing he needed to do in this disaster of a week before the weekend. 

“You need to come get him,” Clarus said without preamble. 

“Clarus, it’s been a long fucking day, what are you on about?” 

“Cor,” Clarus said, sounding as if he was put upon by the whole world and Cor’s stupidity was the last straw. “Check the fucking date.” 

Cor flicked off the phone base as he reached for the little date-a-day calendar that Monica had given him. Everyday was a photo of a new, angry looking cat. She had said it reminded her of him. He ripped off the page from yesterday (a howling, snaggle-toothed orange tom) to reveal a soaking wet and very angry cat. Cor felt his stomach drop all the way to the red soles of his shoes. 

“Fuck!” Cor cursed and shot out of his seat. 

“Mhum.” 

“I’m on my way,” Cor said, slamming down the phone in its cradle without waiting for a response from Clarus. He charged through the halls, the night shift Crownsguard and late working staff scattering out of the way before him. 

“Hold the door!” Cor shouted, sprinting to the elevator. He reached out to stop the doors closing long enough to slide in. He jabbed harshly at the button for the floor he needed before folding his hands behind him in parade rest out of habit. Cor purposely ignored the terrified looking stenographer who was stuck in the elevator with him- and who darted off the elevator with a squeak of ‘good evening, Marshal’ as soon as they could. Cor wasn’t even sure they had gotten off on the right floor, but he was sure there would be rumors of his path through the Citadel tomorrow. 

The elevator rose a few more floors before the doors slid open and it was Cor’s turn to stride out into the dark halls. This had always been a problematic date, but in the past it used to mean Cor being dragged out drinking or bearing some overly needless checking in on. Since Auela’s death, though, every hard date had been harder. There were several hard dates for Regis: the day Auela died (of course), the day Mors died (that one was complicated), the day they retreated from Accordo, and this one. This one Cor felt particularly guilty about. 

Cor gave a curt nod to the guards outside of Regis’ office suite and entered without knocking. Clarus was waiting for him on the other side, arms crossed and face full of tense lines. Cor noted that Regis' assistant had already been sent away and wondered if Clarus had done that or if it was something Regis had the foresight to do. 

"How bad is he?" Cor asked, once the doors to the suite were closed to any prying ears. 

"Could be worse, could be better," Clarus answered with an easy shrug that would have fooled anyone who didn't know him as well. He was worried. 

"You should've called me earlier," Cor said. The words had more bite to them than he intended. 

"Earlier I was ordered not to," Clarus said back, managing to keep his calm. 

Cor nearly winced, the guilt in the pit of his stomach grew. "What changed?" 

"He's too drunk to give me orders anymore," Clarus said. He walked over and clasped a hand on Cor's shoulder.. "Do you have this? If you need me to stay…" 

"No, go home to your family. You have a pregnant wife to dote on," Cor said. "I'll handle Regis." 

Claurs frowned, searching Cor's eyes for a moment before nodding and letting go. "Call me if you need _anything_ \- I mean it." 

"Understood. Now go, and tell Nivenia ‘hey’ and that I’ll try to stop by soon." 

“You better, or she’s going to hunt you down herself,” Clarus said, chuckling for a moment before his mood sobered again. “Good luck Cor, and be gentle. This one has him in a real mood.” 

“Got it. Go,” Cor said, giving a nod to Clarus. He waited till he heard the door latch closed before he crossed the empty room and slipped into Regis’ office. 

The lights were turned low- none of the overhead ones were on and the lamp at the desk was switched off. All the light in the room came from the fireplace and lone standing lamp that the seating area was nestled around. 

“I thought I told you to go home, Clarus,” Regis called out from somewhere near the couch. The words were still crisp, but Cor knew from experience that years having rhetoric drilled into him kept Regis from slurring even when ready to keel over- whether from drink, exhaustion, or injury. (It made it a right bitch to try to assess how hurt the other was after a fight.) 

“He’s on his way there now,” Cor said, trying to keep his voice low. He felt like he was intruding on a moment that wasn’t his to see. 

There was a long, heavy silence where he considered if he would leave if Regis ordered it. 

“Bastard,” Regis groused. “He wasn’t supposed to call you.” 

“Ya, well,” Cor said, using the lack of dismissal as permission enough to approach. He took in the empty decanter of whiskey and the two glasses next to it on the coffee table. An empty glass was closer to the armchair and the one nearer the couch had a few fingers of drink left in it. He swiped the glass as he passed between the coffee table and couch, swatting away Regis’ hand as he reached for it. 

“That is mine.” 

“Not any more,” Cor said, holding the glass out of reach. His king was stretched out across the sofa, shoes and layers of outerwear shed unceremoniously on the floor and over the back of the sofa respectively. Regis rolled his head over on the deceptively comfortable throw pillow to glare up at Cor. 

Cor snorted back at the sight. “You look like you belong in that stupid calendar Monica gave me, all you need is cat ears.” 

“...I rather know I’m drunk, Cor, but I don’t think what you just said would've made sense even if I wasn’t,” Regis mused, brows knitting together with a little wrinkle. That expression always made Cor want to reach out and smooth it away. Instead he just shrugged, bent down to pick up Regis’ legs enough to sit on the couch, and dropped the feet back down into his lap. 

He let the silence stretch as he settled in. His left hand rested on Regis’ ankle and the hand holding the glass was braced lightly against Regis’ calf. When Regis made another half-hearted grab for the whiskey, Cor just went ahead and knocked it back, enjoying the smooth burn even if he would’ve rather sipped at it slowly. He leaned forward, and set the glass back on the coffee table with a heavy thunk. 

“Bastard,” Regis groused again and let his head fall back, closing his eyes. 

Cor looked away from the tense expression Regis wore and stared into the fire instead. He started to rub his thumb slowly against Regis’ ankle, a soft reminder to Regis that he was still there. 

“You don’t have to put up with this either- you can go home too,” Regis said after another long stretch of silence. 

Cor simply hummed back in reply. 

“You can. I know it has been a long week for you.” 

“Heard about that, did you?” There had been a fight between two Crownsguard cadets that had erupted into a fight between almost all of the cadets. Three of them had ended up in the infirmary. Cor had been cleaning up the mess and handing out punishments the whole week. 

“Cor,” Regis said dryly, “The whole Citadel has heard of it by now.” 

Cor sighed and let his head thump against the back of the sofa. “Well, cadets will be cadets.” 

“Mmm… Clarus and I were reminiscing about that some. You were the worst of all of them.” 

“Was not,” Cor said, an old retort. “They were just all out to get me.” 

“You were a half feral punk, younger than any of them, and could kick all their asses, Cor, of course they were out to get you. You wore a target on your back almost as big as the chip on your shoulder. And don’t pretend like every single chance there was to fight you didn’t jump at it. You spent the whole time acting as if you had something to prove.” 

“I did have something to prove.” 

“No you didn’t!” Regis nearly shouted, filing himself into sitting up. “You were already one of the best! You were then and you were when Mors promoted you early and you were when you went with me to Altissia and you were when you threw it all away running off to fight some gods damned ghost fourteen years ago! Fourteen years _to the day,_ and you still don’t get it! You had _nothing_ to prove and you still went off and nearly got yourself cut in half! Clarus had to practically hold your guts together while I healed you-” 

Regis’ triad was cut off as he went grey, color draining from his face. He stumbled off the couch, legs tangled with Cor’s for a moment, before he managed to rush off to the bathroom. Tight on Regis’ heels, Cor helped him to his knees as Regis threw up bile and drink in the toilet. While he let Regis finish heaving, Cor dug out the mouthwash that Regis kept around to freshen up before meetings. He handed Regis a paper cup of it and the other dutifully swished it around. He spit it out in the toilet before slamming the lid closed, flushing it, and leaning back heavily against the wall. 

After wetting a washcloth, Cor knelt down in front of Regis, nudging the other’s knees slightly apart to make room. Cor gently cupped the side of Regis’ face and dabbed the cloth against Regis ’clammy skin as he waited for other’s breathing to settle and color to come back. 

“I’m right here Regie. Whole and hale. You got to my stupid ass in time.” 

“There was so much blood Cor. I don’t think you understand how much… I still dream about it sometimes. And I didn’t think I could do it. I thought you were going to die there in Clarus’ arms because I wasn’t _good_ enough-” 

“Stop that. Look at me,” Cor ordered sharply. Regis’ head shot up on command. “ _Stop that._ If I _had_ died it would’ve been my own damn fault. But I didn’t. So, stop that.” 

Cor held Regis’ eyes till the other gave a sign and nodded. Voice softening, Cor asked, “Can you make it back out to the couch if I help?” 

Another nod. 

Cor moved to get an arm under Regis’ shoulders and got him up off the floor and back out onto the couch. All of the fight and tension had left Regis following his outburst, and after Cor sat down next to him, Regis let himself tilt over, settling his head in Cor’s lap. Cor froze for just a moment before he draped one arm over Regis’ shoulders and brought the other up to card through the soft black hair. 

The silence fell around them again, but this time it felt uneasy. The same guilt that had been eating away at Cor since Clarus had first called was back with a vengeance. He knew that Regis and Clarus both still took the fight with Gilgamesh hard, but he hadn’t known how much guilt Regis had bottled up about it. Cor made a mental note to drag Clarus off to spar or out for a drink soon to make sure the other wasn’t still on about something too. Going to fight Gilgamesh had been his own stupid idea, and he’d live with the scars of it forever. He didn’t need it leaving its mark on the others like this. 

The problem was, he didn’t know how to fix it. He was bad at this whole dealing with emotions thing. After his ma had died, he never thought anyone else would weasel their way into his heart for him to care about. All these years later and he still didn’t know what to do with any of it- not with Regis or Clarus or the kids. In the moment, all he could think to do was the same thing that she used to do for him when the world was too much, so he started to softly sing. Cor had always felt his voice was too rough for singing, too deep, but he sang quietly and steadily through the verses in a reassuring rumble. 

After Cor had fallen quiet, the song done, Regis murmured, “I haven’t heard that one before, it’s lovely. Where did you learn it?” 

“From Ma- from my mother. It was one of her favorites.” 

Regis hummed softly. “You never talk much about her.” 

“Not much to say. She was a good woman who tried her best and sometimes that was enough, but a lot of the time it wasn’t. But she loved me and I loved her. And… then she died. That was already a lifetime ago by the time I met you.” 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t of- fuck, this was stupid of me. I can’t afford to sulk about or get drunk like this. I need to be available if Noct needs me,” Regis said. He was sounding clearer then, if more exhausted. “I’m all there is now.” 

“I’ll stay over tonight,” Cor rumbled, softly, not letting up in stroking Regis’ hair. “I’ll be there if Noctis comes round.” 

Regis scoffed. “I can’t ask that of you. You are…” 

Regis let out a heavy sigh and reached up to catch Cor’s hand from off his shoulder. He brought it around, turning it between his own hands. He set his fingers against Cor’s as if he was studying the contrast of them, so Cor did the same. Regis’ fingers were thinner than his own and a little longer. The callouses from hours of training that used to mark his King’s skin had long since faded and Cor felt his own callouses scrape against the other’s softer skin as his fingers twitched unconsciously. 

“You are always there for me- to do anything that I ask of you. The _too much_ that I ask of you,” Regis whispered. He dropped his fingers, slotting them between Cor’s in a loose grasp. 

“It’s not too much,” Cor said. He felt too loud, too rough, too... coarse in this soft moment. They were on the edge of something and Cor, for the first time in a very long time, was afraid. He swallowed past the knot of tension in his throat. “You can ask anything of me.” 

“As king- as a duty,” Regis said with a bitter laugh that made Cor’s heart ache to hear. 

“As _Regis_. I don’t follow the crown to hell and back- I follow you,” Cor corrected. “It’s never been about the crown. You have to know that.” 

Regis fell silent again. Cor felt like his heart would thud out of his chest as he watched Regis run a thumb back and forth against the back of his hand. Cor could barely hear it when Regis finally spoke again. “I’m afraid of it.” 

“... Regie?” 

“I’m afraid that you mean that. I’m afraid that I am going to do something stupid, and lose you because I can’t keep it all straight any longer. And I can’t- I can’t lose you, Cor,” Regis said. “It would be even worse now than all those years ago in that _stupid_ crevasse. Because now I… anyways, I just can’t.” 

“I’m here,” Cor tried to console him, and squeezed Regis’ fingers in his own. “I’m here, Regie. Right here and safe and with you. You’re not getting rid of me any time soon. I meant what I said- you can ask anything of me.” 

In reply, Regis just gave a hum that was more a wounded noise than a sound of agreement and continued to stroke Cor’s hand. Cor gave the other time. He was good at waiting for Regis- letting him have the room and time to think. He’d give Regis forever, if he needed to. 

Regis twisted their hands around, bringing the clasped fingers to his lips and pressing a kiss against one of Cor’s scarred knuckles- then to another knuckle and another and another. Lips still pressed against the sun tanned skin, Regis twisted the hands around and kissed calloused fingertips the same way. Cor tried to remember how to breathe. 

Turning a little, Regis tucked their clasped hands against his chest and looked up at Cor. He searched for something in Cor’s eyes for a moment before he said, “I’m going to kiss you now, unless you say otherwise, because, at the moment, I can’t seem to listen to myself about why that is such a very, very bad idea.” 

Cor swallowed and his head dipped down just the slightest amount. It was all the answer Regis seemed to need. He wrapped a hand around the back of Cor’s neck and tugged Cor down just enough to meet him in a kiss. It was chaste- just the simple press of Regis’ soft lips against Cor’s slightly chapped ones- and for the first moment of it Cor didn’t know what to do with himself. 

Kissing was one of those things Cor had never really given much thought to. He’d walked in on far too much of it (and worse) in the barracks and locker room, but it was something he’d never pictured himself doing. He’d never dreamt of it or fantasized about it or imagined what it would be like. But it turned out that it was… nice. It was simply and easy and _right,_ because this was Regis kissing him. Cor squeezed the hand still clasped and pressed between their chests. 

When the kiss broke and he pulled back a little, Regis searched Cor’s face, that worried pinch between his brows again. This time, Cor let himself reach out and smooth it away with his thumb. 

“Was that alright?” Regis asked. It had been a long time since Cor had heard Regis that uncertain about anything. Cor gave the question an honest moment of consideration. 

He’d certainly never thought about kissing Regis before, but it _had_ been nice. It had felt right. It wasn’t about loyalty or the crown- Cor simply, and fully, loved Regis. He had for years. Cor had never stopped to examine the feeling too hard- he didn’t see much point when it was simply a fact. He loved Regis. Maybe kissing was just another thing to slot into place with that simple truth. 

“That was nice,” Cor assured him. 

“Then, tomorrow, can we talk more about this? I’d rather be fully sober for that conversation.” 

“You’ll have to do most of the talking,” Cor warned. 

“Don’t I always?” Regis asked, rhetorically, as he untangled himself from Cor so that he could stand. Cor instantly missed having Regis’ fingers twined up with his. 

Once he was standing, Regis paused and looked down at Cor, clearly hesitating over something. 

“Just ask, Regie.” 

“Come up to bed with me? Simply to sleep, I mean. I would… tonight I would rather have you close, so I know that you’re alright.” 

Cor nodded as he stood and held out his hand. Almost instantly, Regis took it and Cor twined their fingers back together again. Cor gave the hand a little squeeze. “Of course. I told you- you can ask anything of me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I may have developed a real weakness for exploring Cor's character, so I had to take the chance to write something with him for this week. I wish I had been able to do more with this, but I was struck down by a migraine from the polar vortex. Maybe I'll find my way back to write more later (if anyone would be interested let me know). I hope you all enjoyed it!


End file.
